It Just Worked
by Saere
Summary: Naruto had never been missed, never known welcome. Perhaps that was why, out of all the lonely people in the world, Gaara chose him. GaaNaru. Yaoi.


**Disclaimer: **Naruto doesn't belong to me; an array of male characters have already claimed him. Hinata and I couldn't raise enough yen to meet the standing bid. [All recognizable characters belong to their respective owner(s).]

**It Just Worked**

_Co-written by: Reika527_

Laughter always seemed to surround him, radiating as bright and cheerfully as the blond hair atop his head. Always laughing, always grinning; yet hiding a past of unspeakable memories. Of horrific loneliness. His sadness was shared by few, heart shattered into innumerable pieces still in the process of reparation. Moment by moment the eternally smiling boy put himself back together. Each time he was accepted he shone slightly more distinctly.

Each time rejection was shoved in his beaming face, he broke.

Betrayal came more often than recognition. Though the companions he had were true, they were a minority. Enemies were far greater in number; he was hated. He was feared. He was all too easy to blame for the troubles of the world. A man, still a boy really, with an enormous burden to bear.

He never told, and thus no one ever stood by his side, not even those calling him that blissful word, "friend." Desperate to remain normal, he eventually discovered that apathy was easy to target. If he reciprocated and countered attacks, though, what would he become? Nothing, other than the spirit he was believed to personify.

Uzumaki Naruto would prove that he was no monster. To them all.

Not that he had a monopoly on isolation. The Konoha genin that glowed with exuberance was a magnet for dark pasts. But no one suffered solitude quite like he did. Most of the now aloof comrades that flocked in droves to him had once experienced the sensation of company, of being treasured. Only Naruto had never been missed, never known welcome. True, unconditional caring, like that of parenthood or a mate to their match. Only Naruto had always been alone.

Perhaps that was why, out of all the lonely people in the world, Gaara chose him.

The redhead was always immersed in silence, soulless ice green eyes cancelling all sound. Sometimes the swish of clothing echoed when he passed through a room, sweating cowards bowing in muted reverence at the sight of the robes he donned. To him, it was still utter silence.

Ultimately, almost painstakingly, voices crashed through his barrier. They urged him to battle, bathing the world in blood. To defend, to protect what they assumed he cherished. And the whispered murmurs of his siblings and foreign shinobi, those that didn't fear him.

He didn't like fear. And so the soft calls of the blond boy, extending a steady hand, were heard most clearly.

Coherently enough to diminish the emptiness he felt upon waking. Loud enough to block out the mutual pain. Happily enough that the imposing sand-user, who never showed emotion, could express amusement while peering into eyes the color of sky. It helped him forget years of excruciating quiet.

It healed Naruto, too.

Gaara showed Naruto what could be said without words. That one little touch, a brushing of knees, a timid tap on the shoulder…meant everything. With meaningful glances he taught Naruto it was okay to talk about what plagued them. It was alright to be hurt.

And that he wouldn't run away when it ended. He would wait.

He wasn't scared.

Somehow, they fit. Being together in the void was preferable to hating the dark. An alienated man, and the leader that implanted panic with his footsteps. They danced around each other with inimitable grace and enthusiasm, enthralled by the unfamiliar concepts they faced. Love was still a novelty. Pale skin clashing with sun-kissed arms, blood red hair wet with perspiration, the pattern hardly ever varied. Naruto needed to be held, desired to be told that something in life was gentle. Gaara wanted something that couldn't be taken away, and to scream in passions other than anguish. And sometimes, Gaara craved comfort.

They could be content. It just worked.


End file.
